


put all your faults to bed

by Flowerparrish



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alex POV, Canon Compliant, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-Canon, Sick Fic, this got a little angstier than it needed to??? because I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: Alex rarely gets sick. It’s a blessing, really, not only because he hates being sick, but because he knows he’s a pain to be around when he isn’t feeling well.





	put all your faults to bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SashaSea (SHCombatalade)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHCombatalade/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Ты и твои недостатки отправляетесь спать](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875550) by [FB_YA_2019 (WTF_Young_Adult)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Young_Adult/pseuds/FB_YA_2019), [Ji_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ji_chan/pseuds/Ji_chan)



> Second gift fic in one night, because Sasha only JUST mentioned being sick and ALSO my dog has been vomiting all night. Seemed like fate.

Alex rarely gets sick. It’s a blessing, really, not only because he hates being sick, but because he knows he’s a pain to be around when he isn’t feeling well. 

Sleep deprived? He can hack it. But the first hint of a cold? Nope. 

So when he wakes up at three am, an hour after falling asleep, and vaults over Henry and only makes it halfway to the bathroom before he’s throwing up, he thinks, oh, fuck, c’mon, really, now? 

They’ve been dating, or whatever it was they were doing at first that definitely turned into dating, for almost three years now, and in that time, Alex has never once been more sick than grumpy with a head cold for a few days. Henry had the flu at one point, but he was mostly bleary-eyed and polite even then, and Alex wanted him to get better asap, of course he did, but it was also a little nice to be reminded once more how human Henry can be. And there’s nothing more human than throwing up into a trashcan and sleeping on the couch so you can be near the TV, the kitchen, and the downstairs bathroom. 

Alex, however, is endlessly, painfully aware of his faults. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s fucking awesome—of course he is—but he’s equally aware of his neuroses and his narcissism and his many fucking flaws. He’s never pretended to be anything less than exactly what he is around Henry—didn’t even try to be the best version of himself, at first—but part of being a little bit neurotic is sometimes grappling with the fear that one day, Alex will fuck up somehow, and Henry will leave him. 

It’s not likely to happen, not after everything they’ve been through together and all of the concessions they’ve made to be together. But it scares him, sometimes, that it could. 

Sick Alex is not the best Alex, both in mental state and attitude, and as he’s throwing up all over their bedroom floor, he thinks two things: 1) thank fuck it’s hardwood, and 2) he has got to try to mitigate the Sick Alex Experience. 

His aching head, his churning stomach, and these cycling thoughts all subside when cool hands grip his arms where he’s slouched over the floor. “I’m fine,” Alex says, and it’s almost true. He will be fine, eventually. 

“Right,” Henry says, managing to ride the edge of dubiousness and sarcasm that he’s perfected as his go-to response for when Alex is full of shit. It’s like a Pavlovian response; it does more to make Alex feel better than anything else could. “Of course you are.”

“I got this,” Alex says. “You can go back to bed.”

The brief silence speaks volumes about Henry’s belief in Alex’s ability to handle it. Alex can even acknowledge, with the logical part of his brain, that Henry is absolutely correct. “Or, I could clean up the vomit, and you could go back to bed.”

Alex can’t quite wrap his brain around things like this, sometimes; for all that Henry has only ever been Henry, there’s still something mind-blowing about Prince Henry of Wales cleaning his vomit off the floor of their bedroom at three in the morning. 

“Okay,” he relents after a moment. He allows Henry to help him up, his shaking legs unwilling to hold his full weight, and guide him back to bed. He curls up instantly on his side and feels a cool hand brush against his hair before settling against his forehead. 

“Only a small fever, I think,” Henry tells him. “Sleep, love.”

He reaches out and catches Henry’s hand before he can turn away. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Henry says, and leans down to give his palm a kiss. “Now, sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still getting the hang of writing these two, so feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> Also, The Sick Alex Experience is something I will probably revisit in the future, because I super want to write about it in all of its glory, but right now it's almost midnight and my bedtime was two hours ago. So... to be continued, one day.


End file.
